


The Wolf and Pack

by NevaRYadL



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Is this a one shot or one shot collection? idk, M/M, Polyamory, The prime semi-retired Witcher life, Trans Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, don't ask me what I'm doing I'm just here for a good time, it's a one shot collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2020-07-28 22:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevaRYadL/pseuds/NevaRYadL
Summary: Geralt enjoys semi-retired life. With only a few hiccups along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Geralt/Regis/Dettlaff, mlm fluff, polyamory, mild language, mentioned physical violence (a fistfight)
> 
> Lowkey into Witcher and I feel in love with this pairing and decided to write some of my own. idk if this will be a one shot collection of these three or if I'll end up doing what I do with a number of other fandoms and do a wide collection of one shots of various things. But I would for sure like to write more on these three

When Geralt rose from slumber, he found himself quite distressingly bereft of vampires. 

Two of them to be precise, and that he was sure he had fallen asleep sandwiched between and in a very warm and comfortable cuddle pile. Now, he was just sort of sprawled on the bed, bare with the sheets tangled around his waist and legs. Though the sheets still smelled very much of them at least, Geralt tugged one pillow closer to bury his face in and inhaled deeply. A smile crept up on his face as he took in the familiar scent.

Grunting, as laying in bed all day was tempting, there were now two vampires lose on his vineyard. Geralt chuckled at the thought of his monster hunting days confined to keeping his lovers from picking fights with local merchants, traveling traders and locals that seemed to love to argue with them. And the few stray monsters because those little shits never rested. Not that Geralt complained, the extra coin and exercise was always welcomed. And the semi-retired life was a good one.

Huffing, Geralt finally sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet met soft bear skin, an addition after one too many tired complaints about feet touching stone floor during winter. He rubbed his feet idly against the soft material slowly, before rising to find clean clothes. Another luxury of actually owning a home that Geralt was slowly starting to like. Clean clothes instead of wearing whatever until the stench of his own sweat, blood and the various things that he cut from monsters made the worn fabric stink something foul that dunking himself in full gear in rivers to fight it.

Dressed in a clean shirt and trousers, Geralt made his way into the kitchen, finding one of the people staffed there cleaning the table. Marian if his still sleep groggy mind was up to par. Yeah, he remembered that practical cloud of tightly curled black hair and soft looking brown skin belonging to the name.

“Morning master Witcher! Actually up before noon I see?”

Geralt huffed through a grin. He liked the sharp tongues around her and encouraged it rather then tried to dissuade it like some people constantly bitched at him to do.

“My sleeping partners left me,” Geralt sighed dramatically before mock pouting.

“Left you and already raising a fuss! You can probably hear Master Regis all the way here from the main road,” Marian sighed dramatically back.

Geralt turned his head in that direction and sure enough, he could catch the edges of Regis’ voice filtering through all the way from the main road. Made him chuckle roughly.

“That man and arguing with local intellectual pricks, and so early too! Well, let me get you something for breakfast and then you can go fetch him before another fistfight breaks out, yeah?” Marian offered

After supping on some soft bread, fruit and a bit of cheese, Geralt was shooed out of the house to start making his way towards the entrance of the vineyard where Regis’ voice was coming from. Thankfully, the tone suggested that Regis was miffed but not angry enough to trade blows… again. Geralt really did not want to break up another fistfight.

“Hey Dettlaff,” Geralt said cheerfully.

“Your hearing is still rather peculiar,” Dettlaff said, materializing next to him.

“Smelled you, actually. You still smell like that scent that Regis tried last night,” Geralt hummed. “You know, from burrowing your face in his neck while you--”

“Silence you.”

Geralt chuckled as he and Dettlaff walked to the front gate and the other part of their infamous trio. Said third part was currently standing not far out of the main gate and yelling quite passionately at… the person that he had been in a fistfight with prior? Geralt gave Dettlaff a look that the other man returned before they continued walking up to the two.

It sounded like they were arguing about the make of armor in some old, old war era. Most of it went above Geralt’s head and based on the slow pinching of Dettlaff’s face, he started with being able to flow with the conversation and was quickly lost by… why they were arguing over it. And after five minutes, it was clear that it was not an argument whether or not someone was right about a benign fact in history, but they were looking for a civilized excuse to scream at one another.

“Witcher, I will pay you…” Dettlaff rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out some slightly lint covered coins. “... Five florens to remove the vampire and send him back home.”

“Damn, five florens?” Geralt hummed. “Deal.”

Pocketing his ‘pay’, Geralt walked over to Regis while humming. Said man was so enthralled in his yelling match, Geralt easily ducked down, grabbed his waist and heaved him up onto one shoulder and start walking back towards the house.

“Put me down!” Regis yelled indignantly.

“Sorry, I’m being paid five whole florens to take you home,” Geralt hummed.

“I’ll pay you seven to put me back down!” Regis snapped.

Geralt turned to Dettlaff, who actually seemed baffled that this was going on at all.

“I’ll pay you twenty to take that pompous ass home!” The other arguerer snapped.

“Can you beat that?” Geralt grinned at Regis.

“... no my coin purse is in the house,” Regis sighed.

Twenty five florens richer, Geralt walked home with a huffy and pouty vampire draped over one shoulder and another one that was fighting a smirk about the ridiculousness of the situation. Past people that smiled and greeted them, and a few that tiredly asked ‘again?’ that had Regis huffing loudly and pouting more deeply. All the way back to the house and back up the stairs and dumping the grumpy man back in the bed that he should have been in when Geralt rose for the day.

“So… this is revenge for leaving the bed early this morning?” Regis huffed, obviously cooled, even more so when Geralt slipped into the bed next to him and curled up at his side. Dettlaff just sat on the edge, smirking at the two of them.

“Maybe,” Geralt rumbled happily.

“I promise it was not supposed to be for long. I rose early to go meet a merchant that was supposed to be traveling by early on in the morning on her way out of town. She had several books that she was going to sell to me…”

“Did you even get them?”

“I did, and then I spotted that no good, pretentious--”

“Ahem,” Dettlaff coughed.

“Anyway. The same old story, we started discussing the make of armors during the eras and he incorrectly started fawning over--”

“Regis,” Geralt gently said.

“We started fighting and I got lost in it.”

“And where were you?” Geralt asked Dettlaff.

“I rose early to see where Regis had gone. Saw that he was, at first, discussing something, and then I went to the market to fetch a few things and came back to him screaming. And then I ran into you,” Dettlaff said simply.

“To be fair, love, you usually sleep in late,” Regis quickly defended. “Both of us could have easily done what we were doing and come back and the chances are that you would have been asleep still.”

“I’m retired!”

Regis chuckled and Geralt huffed through a grin as Dettlaff just smirked and rolled his eyes at the two of them. Geralt turned to press his face into Regis’ slender neck, inhaling the scent of the man’s soap and enjoying the coolness of his skin. Regis rumbled happily, prompting Dettlaff to rumble happily as well. Pack dynamics were great like that, one pack member being happy prompting pack happiness by proxy.

“We will make it up to you, dearest,” Dettlaff said, still rumbling, as he reached over to brush snowy hair out of Geralt’s face and thumb at a scar affectionately. “Tomorrow we shall stay in until you arise in the morning.”

“Hmm, like the sound of that,” Geralt sighed happily.

“But what shall we do about today? There actually is a day to be had with how early we all are awake,” Regis mused.

“I’m comfy as is,” Geralt said before burrowing into Regis’ side.

“Looks like you’ll have plenty of time to read those books of yours, Regis,” Dettlaff said.

“Wait, don’t let this cursed witcher have me!” Regis laughed as Geralt wrapped two arms around his torso and kept him in bed, fake fighting Geralt’s hold as Dettlaff drifted off. Regis laughed as Geralt just grinned.

And after a moment, Dettlaff returned with several books and joined them in bed.

A happy and content pack.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Geralt/Regis/Dettlaff, mentioned violence, mild blood
> 
> Some more fluff, also if the lore is kind eehhhhh I will admit that I don't know the finer details of the Witcher lore but I am reading up on it to make sure I'm not getting anything toooo heinously wrong

He came home stinking of blood.

“What happened?”

Dettlaff was usually there to greet him at the front gates. A small habit of his when the man had moved in with Geralt along with Regis. A domestic thing that had made Geralt look forward to seeing the front gates rather than seeing the last agonizing space between him and a soft bed and being out of his gear.

So Dettlaff was the first to see Geralt’s tired, sore and bandaged self tiredly shuffle home. Despite knowing that he was going to get fretted over, Geralt shuffled over to Dettlaff and threw an arm around the man’s shoulder so Dettlaff could ease some weight off Geralt’s tired legs and onto his own person. And together they could start shuffling towards the house.

“You know that wolf contract I got? Turns out, it was not some wolves getting too close to a village,” Geralt gruffed out, “But two werewolves haunting the local forest.”

“I suppose that by yours being alive, that you were successful?” Dettlaff asked, pausing in their slow pace to pull Geralt’s arm more firmly around his shoulders and slither an arm around his waist to better carry Geralt along. More or less he was carrying Geralt’s full weight at that point and Geralt was too tired to put up any airs of pride or such. Actually had he been more hurt, he probably would have forgone it all and just got asked to be carried home.

“More or less. Still got roughed up in the process. Arm got slashed but I was able to stitch it. Also got tossed into a tree pretty hard,” Geralt explained. “Also those werewolves did not go down without a fight. Pretty sure I wasn’t bothered the entire way home because I stink of their blood.”

Dettlaff helped him shuffle through the front door, Geralt glad that he had arrived so late that there were no fretful workers to see him in his current sorry state, and then to the bedroom. Once there, he was carefully eased onto the floor so that they could gingerly pull his armor and other gear off and set them aside before Dettlaff could fret over him.

As he said, he had gotten slashed with claws along his left arm. Thankfully though it had been a blind swipe and hardly did more than slightly more aggressive surface damage. Dettlaff had only to gently pull the bloodied bandages away to see that Geralt had stitched it properly, gingerly looking at the dark stitches against Geralt’s pale and scarred skin. Despite that, the man still stood to go raid the chest of emergency supplies that they kept by the front door and returned to clean the blood away and a few things to fight possible infection. By the time that Dettlaff was gently cleaning the blood from the stitches and from where werewolf blood had found its way through his armor, Regis had found them.

“You make me lose years every time you come home like this,” The man sighed, quickly sitting by his side to look over his bruised torso and join Dettlaff and cleaning werewolf blood from Geralt’s skin.

“Good thing you’re supposed to live a long time,” Geratl quipped dryly before hissing when Regis’ fingers ghosted over what was likely the bruise patch that made up his back.

“I do not think anything is broken, thankfully,” Regis fretted while Dettlaff finished rewrapping his arm. “Though you will definitely need to sleep on your front tonight. Do we have anything…”

“A bit of pain ointment. Anything more potent and we invoke the potential for toxicity usually found in Geralt’s potions. Seriously, why do Witcher potions have the potential to cause just as much harm as good?”

Geralt got lifted into bed encouraged to lie on his stomach so that the two could get into a serious discussion about the toxicity of Witcher potions and their continued need to use them despite the harm and going on and on about theories about Witcher blood. The sound of them talking was soothing, easing Geralt’s state of mind even as gentle hands rubbed the simple ointment into the dark bruising of his back. But that and simply being exhausted, he found it too easy to fall asleep.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, he could tell that not much time had passed, it was still dark and the fireplace seemed freshly stoked.

“You’re awake…”

Geralt turned his head and saw Regis had joined him in bed at one point, getting close by dragging one of Geralt’s arms over his waist and wriggling up against his side. When Geralt’s head moved, Regis moved a hand to brushed some loose hair away from his face. It felt like his hair had been tied up at one point, probably to keep it gathered up and away from his back so that they could smear the ointment across the surface of his back.

“Tired is all.”

“Hmm…”

“We were slightly worried that you were concussed,” Dettlaff muttered from his hip, having decided to nestle there and thrown an arm over just lower than Geralt’s waist. Gentle lips kissed at the skin just above where his trousers were hanging.

“Nah. Just tired and you two make me feel… safe… easy to fall asleep,” Geralt rumbled, closing his eyes again.

“You’ve quite the way with sweet words, you know that?” Regis said, smile clear and evident in his voice and the way that Regis’ fingers worked over his scalp.

“You two make me mushy is all,” Geralt chuckled.

“We’ve made the Witcher soft, how dare we?” Dettlaff deadpanned.

Regis chuckled and Geralt felt his body go completely lax in the bed. Safety and warmth, what novel sensations.

“We need to keep our lovely soft Witcher in bed for the next few days, my dear Dettlaff. Bruising side, his arm does have stitches and they need to heal,” Regis hummed playfully.

“Being in bed and being pampered? How will I survive?” Geralt chuckled.

“Indeed, but you shall have to endure,” Dettlaff sighed dramatically before pausing to kiss along the skin just above Geralt’s hip.

“Each laborious second,” Regis laughed, rubbing a thumb across Geralt’s cheek.

He was sure he could make it. And that he would love every second of it. After all, Regis and Dettlaff had made him soft and he had loved every second.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Geralt/Regis/Dettlaff
> 
> More fluffff

“Hey Marian--”

“--Good lord man, put on a shirt!” Marian yelped, throwing the fiance ledge that she had been scribbling in at him. Thankfully he caught it and handed it back, Marian putting a hand to her chest to catch her startled breath.

“Yeah, believe it or not, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. Have you seen any of my shirts?” Geralt asked, scratching at his jaw.

He had been working out in the field. When he was feeling restless but not reckless enough to go hunting down a witcher contract, he found that working out in the field of the vineyard was pretty good exercise and tedious enough to calm his restless mind. Not to mention it was honest work that did not put him at the business end of some monster’s fangs or claws and put quite a few minds to rest when he was out there tilling earth or picking grapes instead of walking out the front gates in his gear.

But he was done for the day and had hoped to get dressed in clean clothing before settling with cleaning his sword and maybe some pleasure reading before dinner. And he cleaned himself up and found clean trousers… and no shirts. And no shirts in the folding room or out on the lines with the rest of the drying clothing.

“They were washed and dried yesterday, weren’t they?” Marian asked.

“Yeah, the basket was in the folding room this morning but it was empty when I went to go see. And now I can’t find them now though, wondering’ maybe if you saw someone take them?”

“Strange. They were the good shirts, not the ratty things you kept trying to keep so I don’t think someone took them to throw them away or mend them…” Marian hummed thoughtfully. “Have you tried mister Regis or mister Dettlaff?”

“I… actually haven’t seen them this since this morning, I guess I should ask them.”

Leaving Marian to return to her job, Geralt meandered his way up to his room where he had last seen the two. After waking up from their usual cuddle pile, the two had proclaimed that they had wanted to read and honestly? Better than letting Regis out for his early morning arguing with the locals, so Geralt had kissed them and then left them to read and talk for hours about things older than even the both of them combined as they usually did.

“Hey you two, have you seen--” Geralt said as he pushed open the door, only to stop, pause to take in the scene, and then fold his arms over his chest and grin.

“We can… explain…” Regis said lamely, tucked inside one of Geralt’s shirts.

“... No we can’t, it’s exactly what it looks like,” Dettlaff deadpanned, also wrapped up in one of Geralt’s shirts, the collar pulled up over his nose.

“Did you have to take all of them?” Geralt chuckled fondly.

“No, I swear--”

“Yes.”

Geralt laughed and then went over to take one of the free shirts from where the free ones were and pulled it on.

“It’s-it’s… it is a vampire thing, dearest,” Regis explained when Geralt slipped into bed with him and snuggled up to him. “The smell of our mates are soothing. More so when they are part of a pack…”

“It’s cute,” Geralt rumbled happily.

“I am not ashamed,” Dettlaff said, snuggling deeper into his stolen shirt.

“Of course not,” Geralt laughed while Regis chuckled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Warnings
> 
> I love these dorks so much but more importantly I love letting Geralt get soft and enjoying a peaceful life

“Ouch!” Geralt whined.

“Not those ones, those are for cooking,” Marian said as Geralt held his offended hand from her rather sharp smack. She gestured to the basket of apples next to the one that Geralt had tried to take from instead. “Those are free to take.”

Geralt had amusingly found out that farms often traded excess produce when harvesting seasons came around in his first season of owning the vineyard. Mostly it was to keep farmers from having to continuously eat what they could not sell or give away to their neighbors, help out farms that might not be doing as well as others and keep the other farmers otherwise fed, and generally keeping a sense of friendliness between the local farms. Mostly the eating thing, as it was very easy to go mad if someone ate one or a few fruit or vegetables several times a day for often months at a time. When the grapes had been ripe, Geralt had sold a portion to the market and kept a portion to keep for wine making. And then at the wise heeding of Marian and several other veteran workers, gave away a portion of grapes and traded a few other things, Geralt remembered getting a good selection of onions, eggplants and potatoes from a neighboring farm in trade.

And now it was their turn. One farm had apparently had a very good year and had a number of apples that they were having trouble getting rid of. For a selection of herbs from the garden that usually Geralt maintained for his potions (though admittedly not nearly as often now a days), they had gotten three rather large baskets of apples. One immediately went to livestock feed, and the other two went to the kitchens for eager eating. 

“What’s the difference?” Geralt grumbled, getting a few of the approved apples and stuffing a few more in his pockets.

“Cooking apples don’t turn into mush when you cook or bake them usually. Also they're tarter and therefore, not good raw unless you like tart and sour flavors,” Marian explained as she took one of the cooking ones to start skinning it.

“... I heard ‘bake’.”

Marian laughed.

“Yes, bake. And yes, I’m making pies. But they won’t be done until after supper. So off with ye, witcher!”

“... Still nicer then some of the ways I’ve been told to get lost,” Geralt chuckled as he left with his stash.

“I can be nasty. Now off with you! And make sure to share those apples with mister Regis and mister Dettlaff? But not too many! Too many sweet things before supper will ruin your appetite!”

Smiling fondly, Geralt treaded from the kitchen where he had been snooping around, and went outside to find his lovers. Walking barefoot (as he was generally loath to put on shoes unless he had too), Geralt marveled at the simplicity of eating an apple while walking through the vineyard during a pleasantly cool late summer day. Could not do something so relaxing and carefree during his active witcher days. Just made him glad that he got to be a soft old man in his later years.

Regis and Dettlaff were sitting in the shade of the stable, Regis doing as he liked to do and brushing Roach down as the two argued about something that sounded… boring and ancient. Sounded like they were arguing nobility habits from some centuries passed, again, boring and ancient and dull as the witcher lectures that Geralt got as a young pup. Dettlaff was sitting off to the side and out of the way, wary of Roach, as the mischievous horse seemed to like to creep towards the man when he was not paying attention specifically to startle him.

“There you two are,” Geralt said as he stepped inside.

“Good evening dearest… where did you get apples?”

“Apple farm a ways out. They had excess and were willing to trade for some herbs from the garden,” Geralt said as he took two apples from his pockets and handed them off to the two. And then took a third out and gave it to Roach, who neighed quite happily and then practically inhaled the damn thing.

“Almost as sweet as you, dear one,” Dettlaff chuckled between bites.

“Good try, witchers don’t blush,” Geralt grinned.

“Well that sounds like you would have if you could,” Regis grinned.

“Maybe,” Geralt grinned back.

“I do hope this means that Lady Marian is--”

“Making pies? Yes, but after dinner.”

“Excellent!”

Geralt chuckled as Dettlaff and Regis eagerly talked about apple pies, apparently both looking forward to Marian’s greatly skilled work.

And it was while they were going back and forth lightheartedly about things you could eat with apple pies, that Geralt was once again struck with the domestic feeling of it all. Witcher life had adventure, travel, riches and glory, yeah, but this? A warm and happy home, being able to walk around barefoot and eating apples, being able to talk about sweets and then being able to later sit down to a warm dinner and enjoy dessert afterwards. Perhaps it was just far to romanticized in Geralt's mind, after all that the witcher life had normalized to him, but he loved it with all of his heart and soul.

Sure, did he get bored sometimes and want to take a contract or two? Yeah. But would he give this up for anything in the world? 

Dettlaff ended some remark with a huff and Regis blinked over to him, landing a kiss on his cheek and immediately frazzling the man beyond relief. Regis laughed and Geralt smiled as Dettlaff just huffed louder and blushed dark red. Embarrassed, Dettlaff stomped over to Geralt and just leaned into his chest and pouted, Geralt finally breaking down and laughing as he hugged the man closer and stroked his hair lovingly and Regis giggled breathlessly.

Hell no.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Regis/Dettlaff/Geralt, language, mentioned failed geralt/yen and geralt/triss
> 
> Court your local Witcher properly

“Has anyone courted you before?”

A hand was rubbing idly against his stomach, pushing his loose shirt upwards. Talons gently scraped across his skin. Across soft skin, across hair covered skin, across hard valleys of puckered and rough scar tissue. The hairs underneath his belly tickled when they were mussed.

“Define ‘court’. Like wine and dinner, or guiding my hand somewhere nice and soft and saying you want to get a room?”

A thumb rubbed softly against his lower lip, a talon scraping across his chin softly. The other hand dragged through his hair, talons scraping very pleasantly against his scalp.

“Crude. We were thinking more… gifts and serenading. Dancing and spoiling you. Honeyed words in your ears so often your thoughts become sweeter than syrup. Gentle touches. Those sorts of things.”

Crickets were chirping in the distance as the sunset. Birds singing their last songs for the day before retiring before it grew too dark. People were idly chattering as they packed up and cleaned up the vineyard for the evening, speaking and laughing and going about their evenings just fine. Geralt was laid out underneath a tree, his head in Dettlaff’s lap and Regis sitting at his hip, stroking his belly.

“You two do that plenty,” Geralt hummed, rumbling happily.

“So we are the first to ever court you?” Dettlaff asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Witcher life, what can I say?” Gerlat shrugged.

No one wanted to court a witcher because no one wanted a witcher around for long. People wanted them around as long as they were doing something. Killing monsters, slacking curious lusts, letting people aim fire and venomous words at to unleash frustrations from other places. As far as anyone was concerned, witchers were tools to be casted aside whenever they were no longer needed.

And sure, he guessed he tried to court other people. Triss and Yen. In his own way, not having been raised among ‘humans’. Tried to be soft, tried to be open and yearning. Was… did not work out.

“Oh my dear… please let us court you properly,” Regis said gently. “Gifts and sweet words and… you are a man in desperate need of love. To be loved. To be cherished.”

“You two have shit taste in men,” Geralt quipped dryly before a talon tipped finger pressed against his lips firmly, hushing him.

“You are a good man with a good heart. You are rough around the edges and you are scarred from your journeys, but you are a good man,” Dettlaff said firmly.

Geralt felt a flush underneath his skin and if he could have, he probably would have been blushing from ear to ear because… wow that was… that was so goddamn flowery and sweet and… his heart was weak. He kissed the finger against his lips.

“Yeah, sure,” Geralt hummed against the thumb now lightly resting on his lips.

“I do quite look forward to spoiling you, dearest,” Regis grinned.

“If what you two have been doing hasn’t been spoiling already...” Geralt mused.

“Dearest, you have not seen anything yet,” Dettlaff grinned.

They had to get up at one point, sadly. Once the sun went down, the vineyard really offered very little and the darkness did not offer much visually. And dinner would be served soon. Geralt had gotten far too used to eat three meals a day to skip it.

When the evening meal was taken care of, Geralt had planned on settling for the evening to read a book. That was, until Regis pulled him aside.

“The bathtub is made up, dearest.”

And he had a thousand things to say about how he did not stink and he had a bath a few days ago… when he remembered what the two had said about ‘courting’ him and… he was intrigued.

“Okay.”

He had used a single person tub for awhile when it was just him. And then when Regis and Dettlaff moved in, he got a bigger tub to fit all three of them so that they could enjoy a bath together. Also admittedly, it made taking a bath, which was a rather infrequent occurrence during his active Witcher days, more tolerable and more eager to get cleaned.

“Do you want a shave, dear one?” Dettlaff said, already raiding the small selection of things Geralt had to maintain hair.

“Nah, my beard is still tolerable,” Geralt said as he shed his clothing.

While Dettlaff took a moment to trim his hair using the bathroom mirror, Regis and Geralt sank into the warm water to start relaxing. And that was how Geralt pictured it going until Regis carefully shuffled closer. With a few careful and pointed nudges, Regis got himself behind Geralt and started massaging his back slowly for him, undoing knots and stiffness with masterful hands. Hands that knew him so well and could knead him so easily into wet clay. When Regis worked loose a rather stiff and stubborn knot that had been bothering the bottom of his shoulder blade for days, Geralt melted against the man.

“You look comfy,” Dettlaff purred as he slipped into the bath with them.

“Hmm…”

Dettlaff purred low, that deep rumbly vampire purr that they did when they were overjoyed, and slid forward into Geralt’s space until he could nuzzle at Geralt’s throat. He could feel the man’s features rub against his throat, lips brushing softly and sweetly against the base of his throat, pressing a kiss there briefly before going back to nuzzling. Hearing Dettlaff purr made Regis purr too, rumbling Geralt’s back and surrounding him in gentle comfort. He tilted his head to kiss Dettlaff’s hair, reaching through the water until he could find Regis’ hip and squeeze it comfortingly.

Courting huh…

Regis’ arms wrapped around his chest and squeezed softly. Dettlaff slid his arms up, dripping with the warm water, to wrap around both Geralt and Regis’ shoulders.

He could live with that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Geralt/Regis/Dettlaff, alcohol content warning
> 
> It's winter the vinery
> 
> My French ass while writing this: TIME TO FUCK UP COMMON WINE MISCONCEPTIONS

Despite it all, Geralt shivered.

The winter season was upon them and, apparently, it was a rather nasty one at that. According to some of the vetern workers, the chill was worse than in previous years and he felt very unfortunate to be feeling the worst year apparently. 

During the winter, the actual wine making took place. A number of workers stayed for this process, a few left because their seasonal work was done and they were ready to go home to friends, family and loved ones, but Geralt was glad to see that most of the people that he was most familiar with at this point had stayed for the wine making. Thankfully, given the rather nasty chill in the air, that all happened in the basements and lower levels of the houses made for that, keeping most everyone safe from damaging frost.

But, Geralt had to admit, while lifting Marian up to perch on his shoulder so that she could hammer on a strip of cloth over an older window in the main house, even then most everyone was feeling the bitter bite of the cold.

Thankfully, unlike some prissy nobles that got pissy if someone mentioned how cold their castle or otherwise overly lavish homes were, no one had a problem when Geralt started wearing thicker clothing to keep at bay the cold. Then again, most everyone had thicker winter clothing to wear even indoors.

“Blast this old window… thought we got it fixed,” Marian muttered as she hammered the last nail in place.

“When it’s warmer, I’ll see about getting someone to look at it,” Geralt said, craning his neck to look up at her.

“Well… for now I think I got rid of the draft. To really keep the cold out I’ll have to dig out a pelt to cover the window and nail that down,” Marian sighed as Geralt eased her back down to the floor.

“We do the best with what we have, especially this shit weather,” Geralt grumbled.

“Ain’t that the truth?” Marian laughed. “Well there’s stew tonight to put some warmth in your belly. And I’m sure your bedmates will keep you plenty warm tonight when you retire for the eve.”

“Hush you,” Geralt chuckled.

“As if you don’t like me giving you a hard time,” Marian grinned, sticking her tongue out when Geralt mock looked shocked before the two broke down into childish chuckles.

Geralt did help out with some of the earlier stages of the wine making. Mostly rolling the heavy, recently filled barrels up into the shelves where they would ferment over the winter months. There were a few vintage barrels that were set to age for longer to sell for more. There was a few that, after this winter, would be bottled and sold. He got to taste a bit from one of the barrels as they checked it before they would top it off. Dry and sweet, not exactly his flavor of alcohol but pretty damn good and he looked forward to getting a bottle when everything was bottled and done.

After that, Geralt admitted that since his old retired ass was both old and retired, he could sit down for a bit, especially wrapped up in a blanket in front of his room’s fireplace. Especially flanked on either side by his lovers.

“I recently found this bottle, covered in more cobwebs than anything,” Regis said.

Apparently, his aid had been called to catalogue the fermenting wine barrels and then some of the bottles that they had still shelved, forgotten when the vinery fell into disarray. A number of bottles had been carefully looked over, a few getting the candle light trick to check the fluid contents, to see if they could still be sold. A few bottles sadly had to be dumped and tossed, the contents having gone quite foul and thus, not good for much besides smelling bad. There were a few bottles that bordered too far on that thin line between good to drink and lethal to drink and only a few brave and hearty souls took them for personal consumption.

Regis was one such soul.

“How much alcohol has this become?” Dettlaff said as he looked over the bottle.

“Actually, wine does not become more alcoholic as time passes,” Regis said. “The alcohol might become more ‘pronounced’ but it remains constant. However, this bottle looks like it was part of a short lived set of bottles that were made to have a rather heavy alcohol content for wine. So…”

“It might be a lot of alcohol for wine and taste it too?” Geralt asked as he took the bottle and looked it over himself.

“Yes.”

Regis was the brave soul that wanted the wine, so he was the first to taste it as well. He merely pushed a talon into the cork and yanked it free with a soft ‘pop’. He took a whiff from the open bottle, winced, gave a small lick to the inside lip of the bottle, winced, and then took a sip. He carefully rolled the wine around in his mouth as Dettlaff and Geratl watched. Though as he did so, his face soured more and more until he was forced to swallow the wine to get it out of his mouth, looked quite taken back by the taste.

“One would… have to taste it to describe it…” Regis rasped as Geralt took the bottle and knocked back a large mouthful.

He regretted it immediately.

“Shit,” Geralt rasped as he quickly swallowed it and handed it over to a now very morbidly curious Dettlaff. Dettlaff had almost the mirror reaction, but since it was obviously none of them liked the bottle and it was going to get tossed, the man spat it back into the bottle and quickly recorked it.

“That was fucking awful,” Geralt rasped as he tried to work up spit in his mouth to try and wash out the awful taste of too aged wine out of his mouth.

“You enjoy this swill?” Dettlaff coughed.

“I like good wine,” Regis managed, getting up and quickly shuffling out of the room. Geralt and Dettlaff complained about the awful taste and both idly wondered if anyone else had dared to drink the forgotten bottles in the cellar. Both of them certainly hoped not based on how the one bottle tasted and Geralt hoped that there were no more of that particular make that could be accidentally sold.

“I will make a note of it tomorrow,” Regis said, coming back into the room with a tray and three steaming mugs of something sweet and warm.

“Good. Because I may be a bit of a bastard, but I would not be able to sleep at night knowing _that_ made it out into the market,” Geralt said as he eagerly took the mug, thankfully filled with warm cider that not only washed the foul taste out of his mouth, but also warmed his belly.

They chuckled and took a nice quiet moment to enjoy their drinks and the warmth of the fireplace.

“So… the winter is going to be slow. Think you can handle it?” Dettlaff said after a moment.

“I retired for a reason,” Geralt hummed. “Besides, there are still things to do around here. And I have you two to keep me company. I think I’ll manage.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” Regis smiled.

“No, I think you two are sweeter,” Geralt smiled and then quickly leaned over to lick a stray drop of cider from the corner of Dettlaff’s mouth. He cursed in his language, going red to the ears, as Geralt and Regis just laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Language
> 
> Geralt, mighty witcher, savior of small kittens

“I can’t find him. Not that he’s making it easy. Pale as shit skin and white hair, he practically blends in with the goddamn snow.”

Regis failed to bite back his chuckles, Dettlaff only managing his composure for a second before giggling wildly too. They, of course, quickly corrected themselves because there was a small, tiny, issue at hand.

Geralt was missing in the snow on the vineyard.

One of the worker’s children had lost a stray kitten that they had taken in. And while there was a few ‘oh honey, you should have told me’ from their parents, mostly people were worried about a kitten out in the bitter cold and a few of the adults had gone out. Of course there had been a sudden snowfall and in the confusion, they had managed to lose Geralt. And, as miss Marian had pointed out, Geralt’s paleness and his white hair was making it very hard to spot him and given the sudden snow, it was likely his cloak and clothing were snow dusted so they were very unlikely to be able to find him that way.

“Alright, the snow is letting up, let’s go find him. Levi, can you go get your hound? Maybe the old girl can find him if we can’t…”

Regis and Dettlaff split up with everyone else to scan the vineyard for any signs of Geralt.

Given Geralt’s history as a witcher, and his still being a witcher even if he was semi-retired, and that he went out in winter clothing and a cloak, there was no real worry about his well being. However, it was cold, so they all searched with a purpose.

And thankfully, it paid off.

Geralt had taken shelter in the stables that had been walled in to allow for Roach to live out the winter comfortably inside. Dettlaff found him rubbing Roach’s strong neck.

“There you are,” He sighed. “We were worried, dearest.”

“Sorry, kitten was cold, wanted to get out of the wind,” Geralt said.

“Oh, you found it?”

Tucked inside Geralt’s hood and tangled in the length of his hair, was the tiny little kitten that had started the fuss. It shivered when Geralt pulled back his hood to show Dettlaff, and Geralt quickly pulled his hood back forward. He grinned when Dettlaff chuckled fondly, kissing the sweet man sweetly.

“Come, there is a small army of people looking for you and a small child that you will make the day of,” Dettlaff smiled fondly.

Everyone was happy to see the two of them. The child profusely thanked Geralt and promised to take better care of their pet. And of course, Geralt was shooed off to take a long hot bath to warm his cold limbs. Something that Regis and Dettlaff insured that he did despite assurances that he was fine, though the man put up no fight when he was dragged into the bathing room and stripped out of his gear.

“Saving a kitten must have been the most exciting thing I’ve done in a few months,” Geralt hummed when Regis pointedly nudged him towards the filled tub.

“Everyone is taking the winter off, hmm?” Regis chuckled when Geralt finally caved and slipped inside.

In order to keep him inside the bath long enough to warm himself, Dettlaff and Regis also stripped out of their clothing and sank into the water with him. Rumbling happily, Geralt sank into the blissful heat and let the bath and the two vampires with him warm his bones.

“I’m sure that once the spring comes, a few creatures will come out and give you something to do,” Dettlaff noted, taking the opportunity to slip behind Geralt and wrap his arms around the man. Regis took the opportunity to cuddle up against Geralt’s chest, rumbling happily.

“Hmm… This is fine for now,” Geralt hummed, happily sandwiched between now purring vampires. “I could use the lull.”

“I think someone is realizing what a joy retirement is,” Regis teased.

“Hush,” Geralt shushed, making the other two men chuckle fondly.

They soaked for a good time, letting Geralt get warmed up from his head to his toes, before the water cooled down enough for them to want to get out. They dried off well and redressed and then Regis and Dettlaff shooed Geralt into bed and piled the blankets and furs on him, humoring his for show complaining until they got him covered and then slipping in with him.

“Do you feel warm?” Dettlaff asked when they were all cuddled underneath the thick layer of blankets and furs.

“Very,” Geralt sighed happily. “And well loved.”

“As you deserve, oh might Geralt, savior of lost kittens,” Regis chuckled.

“Ass,” Geralt laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Regis/Geralt/Dettlaff, mlm fluff, polyamory
> 
> Geralt ponders a few things

“Run away, monster!”

Regis stopped by the window he had intended to walk by, immediately backpedaled and threw open the window in a panic--

Only to see that the ‘monster’ was Geralt. And Geralt was ‘roaring’ and chasing several children through the snow, laughing when they dashed through the light and fluffy dust like snow and threw up clouds of it. Regis smiled fondly as he watched Geralt through the snow with a broad grin on his face as he playfully bore his teeth and ‘snarled’ and ‘roared’ as he pretended to be a nasty monster out to get them. Looked like he was having quite the time.

“That’s one way to entertain a bored witcher and several bored children,” Dettlaff chuckled, having stopped to see what Regis was looking at outside and seeing the delight outside.

“They all are having fun and burning off excess energy, it all works out,” Regis smiled.

They had to close the window, it was still bloody cold outside after all. But they did watch from behind the glass for a time as Geralt and the children had an absolutely smashing time playing. Until the parents of said children called them in to warm them up, and Geralt had to begrudgingly also head inside with no one to entertain, and to watch his own limbs from getting too cold. Though Geralt was sure that finding them ready to help him out of his winter clothing was a small joy.

“Have fun, my dear?” Regis said, kissing Geralt’s cheek. His skin was cold on the surface, but that Witcher metabolism was already making his core burn.

“Yeah, those little pups have a lot in them,” Geralt chuckled 

“Don’t they?” Dettlaff smiled, kissing the other cheek.

They helped him out of his gear and set everything where it needed to be to dry properly, making sure that he left his boots by the door so he was not tracking snow and mud inside. And then they took Geralt upstairs to put him in front of the fire to limbs and to smother him in a little love and attention. Something that brought the smile back to Geralt’s face and had him happily sighing in complete contentment.

“I have a question, Geralt, if you will indulge me,” Regis said after a few quiet moments.

“Hmm?”

“I know you had a hand in raising Ciri, and her witcher training. But given Witcher lifespans and your now much calmer and quieter life… have you considered raising a child simply to do so?”

“A little.”

“Oh?” Dettlaff hummed.

“I mean… it’d be nice,” Geralt shrugged, doing that thing he did when he was struggling with the words and finding something below eye level to look at. “But Witcher life. Mutations killed the fertility. Life too dangerous to pick a runt up. Training a kid only meant so much, especially when they went out to the field and you’d have no idea if you would ever see them again or when they would just vanish.”

Geralt fiddled with a lock of hair, having grown long since the cool fall and winter months. Regis liked to run his fingers through it at night and Geralt was loath to cut it anytime soon. He always wanted to grow his hair out really long again, semi remembering a time from his youth when it reached the small of his back at its longest. Long enough to braid and run your fingers through for long, dreamy moments. And usually the signifier of a simpler time, gentler time.

“And it’s not like I’m going to kick it anytime soon. I might be old, but I’d around for them.”

He had lost count of the years, but he was sure that he was nearing that century mark. Nothing to sneeze at, and if he was good to himself and good about going after anything too dangerous with the Witcher work, then he could live maybe longer than even Vesemir. Who knew, maybe he could be the first Witcher to bite it from old age. So, Geralt had ample time and chance to take up a child or children of his own to raise for the sake of raising a child or children. For the sake of being a father. Ample experience too, given his time with Ciri. Tempered by time too, not some fresh faced farmer with their first screaming bundle of squishy joy at the tender age of twenty something.

“Very true.”

They slipped into silence for a moment, digesting.

“If you… ever want to do so…” Dettlaff started.

“We’d be happy to join you,” Regis finished.

That made Geralt smile, feeling his center go soft and weak in the best way possible.

How did he end up so well off?

“You two are the best.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regis/Dettlaff/Geralt fluff
> 
> Another snowy day on the vineyard, and the three talk about absolutely gloriously terrible smutty books

“So if we price the bottles this way, we could afford to redo the houses’ windows as well as redo the edges of the vineyard and reclaim some of the ‘lost to negligence' land. It would be a bit more than usual, but we can lower prices next year and if we can redo the edges of the yard, we can produce more.”

“Hmm... we may have too. Unless we wish to send out Geralt in the snow to do his contracts, or in the spring, to fund everything that we need done…”

“And we are not doing that, so help me.”

“Try coming out from the blankets first before you try to sound threatening, dearest.”

Geralt, just enjoying the banter, chuckled behind his book as Dettlaff growled against his stomach from underneath the warmth of the thick blankets piled on the two of them. Needless to say, said vampire did not sound the least bit threatening, and Marian and Regis chuckled before going back to the finances.

Geralt was learning a great many things about how to own and operate a vineyard, but the finer expenses as well as investing one’s own profits back into the business to grow it was still a bit beyond him. So Marian, as his right hand woman, and Regis, who was just vastly intelligent, were handling those while Geralt lay in bed and absorbed some of the details through the two going back and forth.

“Thankfully, the ‘allure’ of a newly redone vineyard being owned by a witcher already has quite a few people clamoring and even wanting to put money down to claim barrels. No cares for how the fucking things taste, they just like that a witcher was anywhere near them,” Marian hummed as she looked over her ledgers.

“Well, we might have to bank on that, mistress Marian, at least until we get the vineyard back to peak production,” Regis hummed back, dragging a taloned finger along the ledger, squinting at some faded numbers that were obviously from before the vineyard fell into disarray. There were fresh lines of ink where the two had been scribbling much fresher numbers, but Regis was careful to not smear those.

“If all falls through, it’s not like it’s the worst thing for me to go out and do some light contracts,” Geralt said into his book, practically feeling Dettlaff frowning against his stomach and not missing the worried dip of Regis’ brow. “Nothing crazy. There are contracts meant for light and quick coin grabs.”

“Well, I suppose it shall have to be a goal then,” Regis said, flipping through a different ledger. “To see if we can start turning out a profit soon enough to prevent Geralt from going out.”

“Or convince him to stay home,” Dettlaff muttered low enough that only Geralt and Regis could possibly hear him. Geralt pulled a hand away from his book to stroke the lump of huffy, worried vampire underneath the blankets.

“It’ll turn out. My shit luck has been improving lately,” Geralt said.

Regis and Marian did business for a good few hours, Geralt making sure to listen in and pick up what he could. One day he would really sit down and learn everything, but right now he was fine with learning the basics and letting more intelligent, knowledgeable and generally better hands take care of the bulk of it. Also it allowed to enjoy his leisure reading and use one hand to run his fingers through Dettlaff’s hair to sooth the man into a mushy, purring mess still snuggled up against his stomach.

When it was time to prepare for the afternoon meal, Marian called for a break. She had some work to do for the others about the house, mostly clearing snow from the windows and such and she would go out and help a few others clear some heavier snow from the roof.

“Need my help with that?” Geralt asked while Regis put the ledgers away.

“If you wish, we have a rope system that’s safe so long as no one’s an idiot and wears the snow shoes they should be fine.”

“Yeah I’ll come help, just come grab me.”

“Oh that should be entertaining,” Regis chuckled.

“Hush you,” Marian snarked, making Regis chuckle.

They had their afternoon meal and then Geralt dressed himself in his winter gear and went out to help clear the snow away from the windows, walkways and the heavier stuff on the roofs, all of course while being watched by two certain grumpy vampires. Thankfully though nothing bad happened between the rope system and the snow shoes which had these metal bottoms with short nail like protrusions that let Geralt break any ice and grip the roof without damaging it. 

And after that, Geralt was ‘gently’ instructed to go warm back up in bed. And of course, if there was an extra excuse to cuddle up with him, Geralt found himself tucked up in bed with Regis and Dettlaff as they whittled away the idle hours before dinner.

“How are you enjoying this book?” Regis said, idly watching Geralt read from where he had his head rested on Geralt’s shoulder.

“Not bad. Never really had a chance to read fiction before,” Geralt hummed.

“Remind me to fetch you my favorite indulgence fiction book. It’s rather gratuitous fiction based off a witcher that the author fancied--”

“Is that the one that’s almost entirely smut from cover to cover?” Dettlaff said from under the blanket, head on Geralt’s chest.

“... Perhaps.”

“Oh?” Geralt teased.

“Oh hush, a man can enjoy some salacious material from time to time,” Regis huffed, turning red.

Geralt laughed before craning his head to kiss the top of the huffy vampire’s head.

“I still want to read it, witcher stories always make me laugh because of how they fuck witchers up.”

“Let’s make an evening out of it. I dare say, finding out what sort of ‘salacious’ material our dear Regis likes has me curious,” Dettlaff said.

Regis groaned and Geralt and Dettlaff chuckled softly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Geralt/Regis/Dettlaff, refs to sex, mild language, mentioned violence and bodily injuries

As much as everyone detested it, hated it, wish that their raw wrath could make it go away… Geralt got a contract.

“Deepest apologies again, master Witcher,” The frazzled woman said as Geralt adjusted all the straps on his armor. Thankfully, even retirement could not do much against his Witcher metabolism, as much as Regis liked to go on about ‘how a few pounds would do him some good’. Everything fit, if felt a bit odd from how rarely he wore it in recent times.

“Not like you can help a bored succubus tormenting your town,” Geralt shrugged.

If Regis and Dettlaff were unhappy about him getting a contract, they were very, very unhappy about the contract being about a succubus. Both extremely sullen and huffy vampires were waiting by the door, glaring at life in general, as Geralt took the thick fur cloak that Marian was fretting onto him because there was still snow out and the village that he was walking too was still covered in snow. Thankfully though, Geralt had never been one of those Witchers that liked to ‘roll around’ with a succubus to calm them down a bit before convincing them to move to a new foodstock town, so he was planning on killing her anyway. But the looks did not move.

“I’ll be back for both of you,” Geralt said as Marian and the village woman talked payment.

“One would hope so,” Regis muttered.

Geralt kissed his temple, and then Dettlaff’s frown creased cheek, trying to cheer them up. The looks softened but stubbornly remained.

“I promise. Besides, I realize that there are many uh… racy tales out there about Witchers, but plowing a succubus is up there in bad ideas. I’ve never touched one and I’m not going to start. Besides, you two have raised and set the standards for me in the bedroom now. I don’t think any succubus can entice me,” Geralt said.

That did something, the looks on their faces pretty much vanishing and the two finally returning the affection, both nuzzling at his neck and shoulders while purring softly.

“Back soon?” Regis managed between bouts of purring.

“Back soon.”

“I also think that there will be an extra reward for the good Witcher for a contract when it is done too,” Dettlaff rumbled, pausing to torment Geralt so by sucking a hickey clear as day on his neck. “Right?”

“Oh very much so,” Regis purred.

Okay, that was incentive to do this fast.

* * *

The village was about a day and a half ride away from the vineyard.

When it came time to stop for the night, lest he attract the attention of every creature still up and about for the winter if he kept riding, Geralt choose to seek shelter in an abandoned and rather desecrated barn that was nearby a rather ruined building that was probably the house for a farmstead. It had walls enough to keep him out of sight and out of mind of any curious eyes or ears. And it was while he was in the mechanical process of starting a fire, that he realized something.

He was alone.

He had spent his semi-retired life only really doing jobs that he could ride out and come back within the day. This would have been the first in perhaps… maybe a little over a year that he had to spend the night away from the vineyard. And that was actually… a little nerve wracking if Geralt was being honest with himself. He had spent so long traveling mostly by his lonesome and then he had spent a bit of time with others and… shit, maybe Regis and Dettlaff were making him soft.

“Just have to get this done and get back, I guess,” Geralt said to himself as he fed the small fire. “Ain’t that right, Roach?”

His horse lazily looked at him.

“Don’t give me that look. Not like we’re fighting wolves or something. MY ass is the one on the line.”

Somehow, Roach gave him a condescending look. Geralt wondered who the fuck was teaching his horse to sass him.

* * *

Despite a slightly rough night with not as much sleep as he had gotten used too, Geralt set out early the next morning. A bit before midday, he found the village that he was looking for. A decent enough place that looked liked well enough off. A few people saw the white hair and yellow eyes and immediately pointed him in the right direction. And not wanting to deal with the prejudice against Witchers that he had gone without facing for some time, Geralt hurried along the way.

The succubus was held up in some homes that looked like they might have been adjacent to the village at one point, but were taken by the swamp. The thick and muggy smell still hit Geralt’s nose despite the swamp likely being mostly frozen still from the winter. His nose crinkled at the stench as he tethered Roach a safe distance away.

First and foremost, Geralt coated his sword in hybrid oil. And then he applied quen to himself before the battle. Best prepare beforehand, since he was going to kill her right away. Best to do it fast before she could try mind games or tricks, or start firing off magic. Or just grabbing him and throwing him at a tree. Once was enough by that werewolf.

Once he was sure that he was ready, Geralt hesitantly approached. There was not much in terms of noise, given the winter had settled most everything to sleep. The smell of the frozen swamp consuming the edges of the small cluster of houses was still there. And the fresh dusting of snow covered any recent tracks.

Where was…

“Oh, my, a guest? Here?”

Geralt stared down the succubus as she slipped out of one of the most intact houses. She wore a cloak over a dress that was falling down her shoulders and exposing a purposeful amount of cleavage, and her wavy golden hair was left to stream freely over her shoulders.

Despite the obvious attempt to appear alluring as possible, Geralt was grateful that he found himself immediately comparing her to Regis and Dettlaff and finding that he just wanted to go home all the more. That meant that the chances of her seducing him was minimal.

“A Witcher? My, what could a big, strong Witcher want with a simple woman like me?” The succubus purred.

“Here to kill a succubus,” Geralt said flatly, unsheathing his sword.

“Well, I’ll be sure to let you know--”

“It’s winter, you’re not wearing shoes and you don’t have a fire built. Any human would freeze within a few hours. And what woman would spend several hours out in the woods, in the dead of winter without shoes?”

The succubus frowned deeply.

“Well… still… a big strong Witcher like you wouldn’t want to hurt little old me, would you? I’m sure that there are certain… arrangements that we can come too where we both walk away?”

“Nope, sorry, taken quite happily. By two vampires.”

“... Shit.”

Geralt lifted his sword as the first bolt of magic appeared.

* * *

“Ouch.”

“Not even tempted, I am suddenly flushed with pride about our bedroom skills, Regis,” Dettlaff said, as he gingerly looked over the bruise along Geralt’s ribs. Fist sized. The succubus had been light on her hooves. Had been.

“Could be that I also love you two?” Geralt said and then winced when Dettlaff’s fingers brushed some rather painful bruising. 

“Aren’t you sweet?” Regis smiled, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s temple gingerly before even more gingerly wrapping a bandage around his head to get something on the busted skin on his forehead. Turned out that succubi had some rather potent headbutts, given their horns and stronger skulls to support them.

“The healer said that, while you probably do not have a concussion, that it would be best to try and keep you awake for awhile just to be sure,” Dettlaff said, smearing some ointment on Geralt’s ribs. “But before you go there, you are far too injured for that ‘extra reward’, so we will have to find some other means of keeping you awake awhile yet.”

“Can I get that extra reward when I’m better?”

“Of course.”

“Absolutely.”

“Amazing,” Geralt groaned, letting him sink into the bed tiredly.

“You know, we did say we would make an evening out of laughing at terrible smutty Witcher focused books,” Dettlaff said.

“... You didn’t,” Regis muttered.

Dettlaff disappeared for a moment and came back both with a shit eating grin and three books.

“Oh no,” Regis sighed.

“Oh yes!” Geralt grinned.

“He needs to rest. What better way to keep him laying down in bed?” Dettlaff asked.

“... Promise me you won’t judge my taste in complete indulgence too much?” Regis sighed.

“Not a word, now gimme!”

Geralt quickly forgot that extra reward, instead turning his attention to the books as two vampires curled up next to him on either side. With him taking the role of narrator, Geralt flipped open the first book.

“‘Moaning’ is in the first sentence,” Geralt said before wheezing with laughter.

“Oh no,” Dettlaff laughed.

“I don’t read these for quality,” Regis said.

They laughed at themselves before bunkering down for an evening of fun.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Geralt/Regis/Dettlaff, polyamory, trans Geralt, mentioned injuries, mentioned binding
> 
> Geralt is still healing and maybe it's time to stop teasing Regis about his terribly amazing smutty books

“May I, my dearest one?”

“Sure.”

Geralt lifted his arms up, letting Regis pull his shirt up and off his head, ruffling his hair in the process. Dettlaff, lying on his side on the other side of the bed, merely watched with a strange sort of revenance that had Geralt's stomach fluttering almost shy like, like he always did. He always did and it always surprised Geralt.

Free of his shirt, Regis turned to what lay underneath of it.

Geralt lifted his arms so tha Regis could get at the flap at his side, lifting it up out of the way to get at the buckles underneath. They were gently tugged open and then pulled open to release the pressure on Geralt’s chest. He took in a deep breath to stretch out the old ribcage as Regis tugged the leather binder up and off of him and gently set it aside so that Geralt could lovingly clean and oil the leather later. With that out of the war, Regis offered his hands for Geralt to take and then start moving his arms back and forth to further stretch out his ribcage.

“Good?” Regis asked.

“Yep.”

“Ah, you wore your binder today,” Dettlaff said, happening into the room and knowing what the two were doing.

“Yeah. People around here know that about me, but I had to go out to town with Marian to get a few things for the house,” Geralt said.

They both nodded, Dettlaff joining the two of them into bed and sitting behind Geralt. When they were done with stretching with his arms, Dettlaff took to carefully messaging his sides, Geralt rumbling happily while Regis just smiled at the two of them.

“We should read more of those books tonight,” Dettlaff hummed.

“Oh not again,” Regis sighed but through a little grin.

“What? Geralt is still healing so we cannot… partake… in other activites. Also I don’t know about you, but I am learning a great deal about the sexualized and romantizied misconceptions of Witchers,” Dettlaff laughed.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed harder than I have at these books,” Geralt added.

“No!”

“Yes!” 

Geralt moved out of the way so that the two could could launch themselves at each other and start wrestling on the floor. He smiled and chuckled softly as he watched the two toss and turn on the floor, go back and forthing about ‘no!’ and ‘yes!’ but mostly enjoying some lighthearted roughhousing.

“Careful not to make too much noise you two,” Geralt called out over them after a moment, “Else you’ll get scolded by Marian.”

Dettlaff disappeared underneath of Regis, appearing in bed while grinning down at Regis as he fell to the ground. He got up, huffing cutely, before doing the same. Geralt made sure to give him a quick kiss to melt the look away, Dettlaff doing the same to sooth his ruffled feathers.

“We tease you because we love you,” Geralt smiled, pulling Regis to his chest and getting the man to lay there. “But we can stop if we’re bothering you.”

“It’s fine. Like I said, I am well aware that the books are terrible.”

“Still, I think we’ve teased enough, my love. Let us find a different thing to fill the evenings while we wait for Geralt to heal for that reward we still owe him.”

“Oh! Wait-- ow, ribs. Can one of you reach underneath the bed and grab the book there?”

Regis did, pulling out the book that Geralt had been reading with a great deal of pleasure the past few weeks in his spare time.

“What’s this?” Dettlaff asked as Regis showed him the book.

“It’s a story that Eskel told me about. Never really had the oppertunity or chance to read it or carry the book around until now. It’s about a man like me that travels with a Witcher and kills monsters. It’s nice. Also Eskel promised that the man and Witcher end up together.”

“Well, do go on, narrator,” Regis said, obviously interested.

Grinning, Geralt took hold of the book as Dettlaff and Regis got comfortable tucked up against his sides. He gave them both a peck and turned it open to the first page. He was about half way through, but there was something about experiencing the beginning again with his loves that made it worth it to go back.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Heavy drinking, drinking games, mentions of sex, mild language, geralt/regis/dettlaff fluff
> 
> Damn, y'all didn't like the trans geralt huh

“And then you rub the fabric against the board. But not too hard, else you’ll weaken the clothing and make holes,” Marian explained.

“... This isn’t piss, is it?”

“We’re a little better off than that, mister Witcher,” Marian said, cupping her hand in the water and throwing it at a giggling Geralt. “No. It’s a mixture that my grandmother taught my mother and then improved a bit on my own. Secret stuff. Nothing disgusting in the batch and can take the stains out of most everything, especially if soaked overnight. Now…”

Geralt, satisfied that there was nothing disgusting in the water, moved the board to sit against his shoulder and dunked his hand into the water to grab the first thing that his fingers found, pulling up a shirt and started scrubbing. And satisfied that he was scrubbing, Marian got to work as well.

The winter was waning outside. And while that meant warmer weather and a break from the damned cold, that also meant a growing amount of mud as people went out to check on the land and the buildings. And even with being careful, Marian had grown rather dissatisfied with the state of the boots, trousers and dress hems of the workers still on the land and decided to take matters into her own hands before the mub got caked in and stained the clothing or worse, ruined clothing. Geralt had heard her grumbling and volunteered to help.

“Never made you wash the clothing when you were a pup?” Marian asked.

“No, I was more ‘scrubbing the floors and dusting’ whelp ‘training’,” Geralt hummed as he worked. “If you would believe it, I was short and scrawny at one point, especially as a whelp. So I got to crawl into small spaces to dust and scrub.”

“Bet you sure showed them when you grew like a weed.”

“Ha! By then the next generation of whelps were doing that, I was learning the sword. Late bloomer.”

“Poor thing,” Marian laughed.

They scrubbed and hung everything to dry in the basement, considering it was probably the warmest part of the house and fewer people went down there with the wine still being made. Everything that would need to soak were left in the washing tubs and left in the corners to be out of the way. 

“We’ll make you a regular house husband in no time, mister Witcher,” Marian said when they were done.

“I’m not already?” Geralt mock scoffed in playful indignation.

“Save the cute act for your husbands upstairs. It’s about time for the house to be getting up,” Marian laughed as she picked up her skirts to walk up the stairs.

Regis and Dettlaff were just lifting their heads up from the pillows when Geralt made his way back to the bedroom. The two were very surprised to find that he was actually up before them for once.

“Now you two know how I feel when you leave me first thing in the morning,” Geralt said as he gracelessly flopped into bed and consequently on the two of them. They accepted the movement with sleepy grace, moving around and tossing the blankets aside until they had sandwiched Geralt between the two of them and effectively pinned to the bed.

And Geralt would have been very happy to be pinned between two still very sleepy and very cuddle vampires for perhaps the next hour or two.

But there was a merry voice outside.

“Ooooh Geralt!”

“Dandelion?” Geralt asked, popping his head up from the pile.

“Who?” Regis yawned.

“Wait… Dandelion? Jaskier? That insufferable bard?” Dettlaff asked.

“Oh lord, they’re friends,” Regis groaned as Geralt managed to wriggle free, grabbing _someone’s_ boots and yanking them on before rushing downstairs to throw open the front door to see not only his favorite bard, but also Vesemir.

“What are you two doing here?” Geralt asked, grabbing Vesemir to give his pseudo-father a hug and then ushering the two inside, making sure to get them to take off their boots to not get a scolding from Marian.

“Thought we’d come to see our dear friend,” Jaskier grinned, getting the next hug. He also, with a lot of prodding, kicked out of his boots and put his hat on a peg by the door along with his coat. “Not every day Witchers actually retire. Let alone Witchers of your status.”

“I’ve figured I’ve done enough in my life to earn it,” Geralt shrugged as he led them a bit into the house.

“Still, doing good for yourself, Geralt,” Vesemir said, looking around the house. “Always thought you would end up in a cabin in some remote woods with someone or someone’s’ very good looking to keep you company.”

“Well… you got the cabin wrong, but the second part…” Geralt said before turning his head to smile at Regis and Dettlaff, dressed for the day, coming down the stairs. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. And good morning to our guests, Geralt would you please introduce us?” Regis said, making sure to give a proper gentlemen like bow to Jaskier and Vesemir, Dettlaff wordless doing the same, eyeing the two of them.

“This is Vesemir, he helped raise and trained me as a pup,” Geralt said, gesturing to Vesemir. And then to Jaskier, “This is Jaskier, or Dandelion, he’s a bard of some infamy and an old friend.”

Geralt did not miss the absolute scandilized look in Jaskier’s eyes as he looked over Regis and Dettlaff. Vesemir had his ‘fucking knew it, goddammit Geralt’ look as Geralt tilted himself towards his lovers to introduce them.

“This is Regis and Dettlaff,” Geralt said, “Long time friends and currently living with me.”

“Geralt, you dog,” Jaskier said before giggling wildly as Regis and Dettlaff pinked and Vesemier just sighed and Geralt howled with laughter.

* * *

Jaskier, being the wine whore that he was, of course wanted to taste some of the bottles that they still had. Thankfully a number of bottles had been put up for consumption in the house, though they had hardly put a dent in it considering no one in the house really drank wine often and Geralt’s own preference for beer and mead. Still, it was good wine and Geralt took two bottles and happily invited Jaskier and Vesemier up to be in his room so they could be out of the way of the workers and happily drink and make a ruckus. Regis and Dettlaff followed after when Geralt motioned for them to join, happy to have his lovers and two of his favorite people in the world all in a room together.

“Mmm, wonderful,” Jaskier sighed happily after taking a sip.

“It’s wine,” Vesemier said when Geralt looked at him.

“Well it’s not part of the batch I had a hand in making, those are in the barrels downstairs. A few more months and they’ll be ready,” Geralt shrugged, taking the bottle from Jaskier and taking a sip as well before letting the bard take it back.

“I might need to come by and buy some then,” Jaskier grinned before taking another mouthful, “Witcher wine! What a novel treat!”

“There are already people glamoring to buy the wine because of it,” Regis said. “A few have offered thousands of florens to secure bottles.”

“Geralt, my dear, dear, _rich_ friend,” Jaskier said, batting his eyelashes at Geralt and making him laugh.

Between the five of them, they easily tucked away the two bottles without much trouble and had whittled away most of the day, laughing, chatting, talking and swapping stories. They went well into the darkening evening. By then, Jaskier was pinked from having tucked away another bottle of wine and suggesting some fun evening activities before Geralt cut him off from the wine.

“Never have I ever!” Jaskier called when Geralt came up with the last two bottles of the night.

“Oh gods,” Vesemier sighed.

“What?” Regis asked.

“It’s a drinking game!” Jaskier clamored as Geralt joined them, sitting between Regis and Dettlaff. “Basically you start with ten points. You go around and say something that you have never done. If someone has done that though, they lose a point and have to drink. A great way to get to know each other and get some laughs.”

“I’ll play, but only if you two,” Geralt said, gesturing to Jaskier and Vesemier, “Want to play ‘I know Geralt has slept his way through life’ then I’ll drink but I get thirty points.”

“DONE!” Jaskier said while Vesemier just sighed and chuckled softly and Regis and Dettlaff looked rather interested in playing. “Let us begin, my friends! Never have I ever… fucked a dwarf.”

Geralt and Vesemier tipped back the bottle.

“Oh my,” Dettlaff said.

“Never have I ever fucked a lord’s wife, drink bitch,” Geralt said to Jaskier, passing the bottle his way.

Jaskier laughed but did as such.

They had a great many laughs and drinks as they played. At one point, they had poor Regis wheezing with laughter and Dettlaff burning redder than the reddest grapes of the vineyard. Nothing really shocked anyone, except Geralt swearing up and down that he had never ploughed a succubus and Jaskier not believing his poor ears.

Even with Vesemier and Jaskier doing a number of things pointedly aimed at making Geralt drink and lose points, Jaskier ended up losing first. Apparently Regis and Dettlaff only needed to hear a few to get an idea of Jaskier’s character and ended up successfully guessing a few wild adventures of his that they had never done the same of. But the infamous bard took the loss in stride, face red with wine and bowing with completely shameless pride as they howled with laughter.

At that point, Jaskier was also quite drunk and Vesemier was wobbling on his feet. Geralt insisted that they stayed the night, aiding Vesemier in getting Jaskier into the guest room before hugging the old Witcher close.

“Always good seeing you again, old friend,” Gerlat grinned as he helped Vesemier down into the guest bed.

“And always good to see you too, son,” Vesemier chuckled.

Leaving Vesemier to get ready for bed, Geralt happily made his way up stairs, finding Regis and Dettlaff waiting for him.

“That bard is a lively one,” Dettlaff dryly quipped with a crooked grin, smiling when Geralt kissed his cheek. A little wobbly. Geralt had ended up drinking a lot.

“Uh huh. Always makes things interesting,” Geralt said.

“I bet,” Regis said, grinning when Geralt kissed his cheek too and wobbled again. 

Deciding that he was apparently a lot more drunk than he thought, Geralt flopped on the bed and sighed happily. After a moment, Regis and Dettlaff joined him, snuggling up against his sides and purring softly. Happy vampires, happy life.

“Hope we didn’t knock too many years off your lives with some of those _sordid_ tales,” Geralt hummed after a moment.

“All part of your charm,” Dettlaff chuckled. “You have no fear of judgment from us.”

Geralt sighed happily again and the sound of Regis and Dettlaff rumbling happily filled the quiet room. And very happy and very loved and also very drunk, Geralt fell into a restful sleep for the evening.


	13. Chapter 13

“Whittling?”

“Well, I’ve used knives of all manners for all manners… why not wood?”

“... Lady Marian told you to not play in the mud.”

“Yeeeep.”

Dettlaff and Regis chuckled as Geralt sullenly chipped away at the block of wood in his hand, looking up to see the vineyard kids playing around in the fresh spring mud. It was almost cute for this aged, scarred and rough and gruff witcher to outright pout about not being able to slosh around in the mud with the kids currently having a blast before the vineyard roared back to life for the selling and replanting season.

“... Why you?” Dettlaff asked.

“Something about making the already planned mess worse,” Geralt muttered.

“Well, it is a bit of a struggle to get you into a bathroom for a bath,” Regis teased.

“Not always!” Geralt shot back. “Not if you two offer to get in with me.”

“I am not getting into a bath with a witcher coated in mud,” Dettlaff said.

Geralt huffed and went back to whittling away at the wood. Regis went back to the book he had taken out to enjoy while curled up at Geralt’s side. Dettlaff went back to curiously watching the children and enjoying being curled up at Geralt’s side. After a moment of rest, the two vampires went about idling purring from their snuggling up against Geralt and Geralt’s slightly pouty mood softened a bit.

“Afternoon, mister witcher,” Lady Marian said when she came out of the house and saw the two men tucked up against one another and watching the children.

“Miss No Fun,” Geralt huffed.

“Aye, terrible business I am,” Marian laughed. “Stopping a grown man from stomping around in the mud with children.”

“...”

“... Geralt.”

“Dearest one…”

“I am a full grown man.”

Marian failed to spit out words in time to prevent Geralt from tossing his block of wood and knife aside, casted his shirt and shoes aside and simply ran out into the patch of mud, much to the screaming delight of the children. Marian put her face in her hands and tiredly aside along with Regis and Dettlaff as Geralt picked up two children and spun them around, grinning in complete and utter triumph.

“Mister Regis, mister Dettlaff, if you would please make sure that the witcher is scrubbed clean, top to smartass bottom, before dinner? Or kindly inform him that there will be none until he is clean,” Marian sighed, going back into the house while Regis and Dettlaff just groaned louder.

* * *

“You look good with brown hair,” Regis snorted as they gingerly led a very muddied witcher into the washroom.

“I was a brunette before the mutations turned my hair white,” Geralt grinned, completely shameless about his extremely muddied state.

“Well, let us go back to your white hair state, shall we?” Dettlaff said. “We shall scrub you as best we can before getting in the tub. Together. That way you’ll stay.”

Geralt clothing would need a good long soak. They managed to peel them off of the man and dropped them in the washing tub that Marian had given them and placed them outside the bedroom door, before going back to helping Geralt scrub clean. Though thankfully, not too much mud had managed to get into and underneath his clothing, so the real issue was his chest and his hair.

“How… how did it make it to the scalp?” Regis asked after it was clear that after scrubbing through Geralt’s hair was making… little progress.

“A pup wanted to see what I looked like with brown hair,” Geralt chuckled.

Between the three of them, they managed to get him clean after a good half hour of scrubbing the man.

“There you are,” Dettlaff said, once the last of the brown had been washed from his face and hair, leaving clean scarred skin and snowy white hair laced with white soap lather. Dettlaff kissed Geralt’s nose when he smiled sheepishly.

Once he was clean, they all climbed into the tub and washed off anything lingering.

“Did you have fun, was it worth it?” Regis chuckled when Geralt gruffed about getting his ears checked and cleaned.

“Yes,” Geralt chuckled right back.

“Well, you are finally clean, which means you do not need to wait for dinner,” Dettlaff said, scrubbing along the back of Geralt’s neck. “Also… just clean.”

“A clean witcher is a very nice to kiss witcher,” Regis chuckled as he got out to start drying off.

“You say that, but this very clean witcher isn’t being kissed…”

They both snorted with laughter before kissing Geralt sweetly, making said witcher grin.

“Now, if we can avoid getting you as filthy for a few days, I think you can avoid both baths and ire for the time being,” Regis said, beckoning them both out to get dried off.

“I think that I’m still due some ire.”

“Not like it wouldn’t be rightfully earned…”

They laughed together as they got dried off.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Geralt/Regis/Detlaff, mentioned past Geralt/Yen and Geralt/Triss, unsure/messy emotions regarding bad breakups, mild and brief angst, hickies
> 
> Yen and Triss come to the vineyard and hijinks ensue
> 
> idk who canon is and I don't want to talk to her

“Mister Geralt! Mister Geralt?”

“Yeah?”

“Ah, there you are, good morning, Geralt,” Marian said, stopping by the fencing that Geralt was sitting on, barefoot and swinging his legs idly, carving up an apple to share with the two pups sitting by him and chattering about their day. He popped a piece of apple into his mouth before handing another off to a little hand eagerly reaching out for it.

It was spring in the vineyard. The air was warm, but not too warm, thus why Geralt lacked his shoes but still had his shirt on. People were busy working the fields, getting ready to plant the new round of grapes for wine and harvest. Geralt had helped as best he could before there was a call for a break, he volunteered to watch two pups for a moment for their parents while they went to fetch more seeds.

“We have a small problem in one of the fields that we’re cleaning up, Geralt. A small but stubborn common tree has started to grow where we want to start preparing the earth. However, attempts to simply hack the roots up and pull it up by hand have proved fruitless. It is too stubborn to do by hand, its roots have grown too deep into the soil. But it’s not large enough to warrant trying to get the large cart out, however a single good sturdy horse might pull it up. Might we borrow Roach?” Marian explained.

“Sure,” Geralt said, cutting the last of the apple up and handing it over to the pups just as their parents arrived. Geralt excused himself and went to fetch Roach from her stable and followed Marian out to the fields where two sturdy men were still trying to dig into the earth to find the extent of the roots. Judging by their sour expressions, they had yet to find it.

Roach was a sturdy horse, a strong horse, having carried Geralt for a number of years, carrying them away from danger, or towards it. A few times, she had even killed something by delivering a swift but precise and lethal kick. So a stubborn tree stump was hardly a challenge as Geralt tied the rope around the stump to her saddle and bayed her to pull back. Slowly but surely, they started tugging the stubborn piece of wood free from the earth.

“Ah, we have guests? Were you expecting someone today, Geralt?” Marian said as she looked back towards the house.

Geralt turned his head and saw…

Geralt muttered a curse low and underneath his breath.

“... No. But I should go talk to them anyway.”

“Who are they?” Marian asked.

“Yennefer and Triss.”

Roach accepted Marian taking lead as Geralt begrudgingly walked up to the house to greet his ex lovers. As much as they had all accepted that whatever they had had become far too complicated and unhealthy for any of their wellbeings, Geralt still felt a painful twinge at the sight of them, the tattered remains of his love for both of them tugging at the still healing spots in his chest. Thankfully, nothing too painful as he walked up to them as they waited by the main door.

“Good to see you two again,” Geralt said.

“Geralt! Good to see you too,” Triss smiled, coming up and readily hugging him. She smelled faintly of lilac and gooseberries, he noted, hugging her back and letting her go so that Yennefer could give him a soft smile and also give him a hug in greeting.

“I hardly believed my ears when I heard that you were actually retiring to the vineyard. I would have thought that you would have given it away to a young and budding person with a heart of gold that just needed an opportunity to make money to do good. And then been off on your way to continue to do your Witcher work,” Yennefer idly noted. She was smiling, which meant that she was glad that he actually had retired.

“Yeah, well… I like it here. Toussaint isn’t bad. Still has the occasional monster for me to hunt. Three hot meals, a soft bed and clean clothing have been very nice things to get used too,” Geralt mused.

“Have you settled down with anyone?” Triss asked.

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry, too much?” Triss winced.

“It’s… odd,” Geralt admitted.

And he was not a blushing and flustered virgin, and most anyone that knew him could vouch for that, and he is absolutely not ashamed of the love he had for both Regis and Dettlaff. But there is a… very not good feeling he got when Triss asked him that. And it was not a entirely bad feeling, but also not… not good.

“Come on, let me show you around.”

Geralt gave them the tour of the vineyard and the house. He told them a bit of the work that had been done to both, a bit about the work that still needed to be done especially now that it was warm. And made sure to show them the guest room and bade them to borrow it if they wished to spend the night. When he had shown them everything that there was to be seen, except his room, Marian was calling everyone to take a midday break for a meal.

“Greetings, miladies,” Marian said, bowing to them politely. “Will you be joining us for our meal?”

“I must respectfully decline for now, good lady, I have a few things in town and already prepared to eat there,” Yennefer smiled softly.

“I must decline as well, fair lady, I will be joining Yennefer out. But, Geralt has offered the guest room for the night, we would love to stay for dinner,” Triss added.

“Very well, do have a lovely day out.”

When they were gone for the time being, Marian gave him a keen look.

“For a man talking to his ex-girlfriends, you are holding it together remarkably, mister Witcher.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Apologies. At the very least, your current lovers shall be returning soon, they did say not long after midday that they should return from their trip. Though, you might want to brace them for our guests for the eve, aye?”

“Aye,” Geralt grumbled.

After the midday meal and a bit more work in the field, Regis and Dettlaff did return. Regis was positively beaming as he carried a new housing of books bound with strips of leather and his alchemy bag bulging with likely new alchemic ingredients and things to plant in the garden. Dettlaff was carrying another pile of books bound with leather, giving Geralt the ‘he’s adorable when he’s excited’ look when Regis hurried rushed into the house to put his books away while chatting away excitedly. When Regis had bounded up stairs to their bedroom, Dettlaff leaned in to give him a kiss.

Geralt winced when Dettlaff paused.

“Geralt, that perfume…”

“Yennefer and Triss came to visit,” Geralt grumbled. “They’ll be… staying the night.”

Dettlaff studied his face for a moment, before leaning in and finishing that kiss, his lips lingering on the skin notably longer. And when he pulled away, it was an obvious air of reluctance, still hovering close to Geralt. Then quick as a flash, Dettlaff ducked down and sealed his lips around a patch of skin on Geralt’s throat. Geralt was barely able to grunt before Dettlaff pressed the front of his teeth against the skin and just _sucked_. Geralt groaned deeply, bucking against Dettlaff’s body, but his mouth was already moving away, pulling away to drag the tip of his tongue along his lower lip to catch a stray drop of spit.

“What was--”

“--And I can’t believe I found a first edition!” Regis said as he came back to them, bouncing up to press a kiss to Geralt's cheek. “You’d never believe the luck of it, my love! And I finally got that copy of alchemic brews that I’ve been searching for. I am so glad that we went looking for them when we did, who knows who could have scooped them up if we had--”

Regis paused, nostrils flaring for a moment, before the excited and happy look on his face simply fell off as he turned to Geralt.

“You smell like Yennefer,” Regis said, all excitement bleeding out of his voice.

“Sorry, she and Triss are here to visit,” Geralt winced.

“This must be… quite the surprise…”

“I am willing to admit that it isn’t a great one,” Geralt sighed.

Seeing his look, Geralt got two vampires immediately fretting over him, pressing up against him, purring low. Geralt just wrapped an arm around each and pulled them close, part of his mind hoping that one or both of their smells coated or could overpower the smell of lilac and gooseberries that was still sort of clinging to his shirt. Part of him ached at the smell, part of him wanted a bath, mostly though most of him wanted to sleep until Yennefer and Triss were gone.

“...Explains the hickey,” Regis noted.

“Huh?”

Regis tapped the side of Geralt’s neck, specifically the spot that still felt a little damp from Dettlaff’s mouth.

“Who says that I just didn’t want to leave a little… _love mark_?” Dettlaff huffed.

Geralt gruffed.

“You two know what your teeth do to me, Dett. Also I bet it’s nice and bright red and I just happen to be wearing a low collar shirt,” Geralt chuckled.

“... Hush,” Dettlaff muttered.

Geralt kissed Dettlaff’s forehead while he huffed and Regis chuckled, feeling better already.

* * *

Yennefer and Triss returned after about two hours.

In that time, they had finally gotten the stump uprooted when Marian helpfully turned everyone’s gazes away and Dettlaff simply used his vampiric strength to heave it up the last stubborn bit and then Roach dragged it out. No one the wiser. Geralt had just helped fill in the hole and then helped plough the field so that they could get to seeding when the two came back looking for him. Despite wanting to hide, some bitter part of his mind merely reminded him that it was not forever and that being civil with them would do him good. So he left the field work to the field workers and trudged back up to the house.

“Honest work looks good on you, Geralt,” Yennefer beamed as he came trudging up to the house.

He looked down at himself, dirt dusted up to his knee and hands grimy and probably sweaty as well.

“Witcher work is honest work,” Geralt shot back.

“I tease, I tease! Though it is a rather lovely sight to see you doing some rough physical labor,” Yennefer smiled.

“Yen,” Geralt deadpanned.

“Sorry, sorry!”

Geralt quickly cleaned himself up and put his dirty clothing out to be washed. When he had to pick a new outfit, he was brought back to the fact that there was a still rather prominent hickey on his throat from early. Witchers healed faster from injuries, but something mild like a hickey would not disappear for a few more hours yet. Grumbling, and figuring it was not like he was intentionally showing it off, Geralt threw on another low collar shirt and went out to meet them again.

And seemingly conveniently enough, Regis and Dettlaff introduced themselves.

“Very lovely to meet you two,” Regis said, bowing proper and everything, “You must be the lovely Yennefer and Triss.”

“Oh, does Geralt talk about us?” Triss asked.

“Um… not really. He has mentioned your name a few times though,” Regis awkwardly said.

Regis spoke a bit with the two of them. He chatted excitedly about several topics that went well above Geralt’s head, but kept the three talking excitedly. Dettlaff lingered by him, mostly, also only offered two or three worded responses with Geralt. It seemed that, along with generally being anti-social to those that he had not warmed up too, Dettlaff was still fretting in his own way. Sometimes, Geralt caught his eyes flicking to the hickey on his throat, though with no readable expression.

When dinner was declared done was the only time the three took a break. Geralt felt some relief that he could probably get away with chores, reading or a very long bath and cut down on any more potential time with Yen and Triss for the night, as he stood and walked with them to enter the dining area.

“Oh Geralt, I was thinking--”

Geralt looked to Triss… who was looking at his throat.

“Uh… who did that?” Triss asked.

“Um--”

“I did,” Dettlaff deadpanned, making Geralt stutter.

“Oh?”

“Oh wait, I’ve been meaning to give it a match,” Regis said, coming over to Geralt, tugging him down a bit and surely enough sucking a mark onto the other side of his neck.

Triss and Yen looked delightfully scandalized.

Regis and Dettlaff looked smug.

Geralt was beginning to think Witcher work was a lot less hazardous than letting your exs and your current lovers be in the same room.


End file.
